


Between the Bars

by AmuseMe



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: M/M, Prison Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 15:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3733411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmuseMe/pseuds/AmuseMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And for Bumblebee, there was no escaping the prisoner that was stashed away in one of those cells. Sneaking down like a common criminal to see Blitzwing. It would be straight to the stockades for him if he ever was caught."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Bars

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift fic for the lovely Herzspalter.  
> I don't have a beta-reader, so any mistake or awkwardly written sentence there is is entirely my fault :)

In retrospect, perhaps Bumblebee should have listened to what logic he had left and stayed away from the brig. Especially _that_ part of the brig where the cells were sank deep into the bowels of the massive, military complex that was the Autobot Headquarters, built in the early stages of the Great War and now forgotten. They lacked the modern security measures that the other newer cells boasted, but the material the bars had been wrought out of was a rare, odd metal that possessed similar properties to stasis-cuffs. There was no escaping them.

And for Bumblebee, there was no escaping the prisoner that was stashed away in one of those cells. Sneaking down like a common criminal to see Blitzwing. It would be straight to the stockades for him if he ever was caught.

He stopped walking and leaned back against one of the walls to clear his head.

Bringing Megatron and his defeated Decepticons back to Cybertron was so long ago that it was nothing but a memory now. After Sentinel's unpopularity and Ultra Magnus' eventual recovery, there were rumours that Optimus was being groomed to take his place. Ratchet had finally retired and was residing with Arcee in Omega Supreme. Bulkhead was busy with his Space Bridge projects. And Prowl…well, the thought of Prowl seemed to ache a little less these cycles.

Bumblebee ran the tips of his fingers against the pitted surface of the wall behind him and glanced upwards, debating on whether he should return. But he had come down this far; no point turning back now. So he proceeded down the corridor, ignoring the scitter-scatter of what must be turborats eating through the wires and that one annoying light array that kept flickering on and off with a loud buzz.

Only the big, dangerous Decepticons were incarcerated in the brig here. Lower-ranked grunts were usually locked up in the stockades. But mechs like Megatron…like Shockwave… they were kept segregated from everything, each in separated cells situated in different chambers. There was no contact whatsoever, save for a chute that allowed daily rations and maybe a datapad that showed nothing but Autobot rehabilitation videos. The isolation was enough to drive even the strongest-willed mech to insanity.

Blitzwing's cell was located in the far end, where the ground beneath Bumblebee's pedes became uneven and worn with age. Here, the illumination was dim and there was an ancient camera above them that had long gone offline. The minibot stopped in front of the cell. He couldn't really see much inside but he could definitely hear movement now; the slight scraping of plating rubbing against something and the faint rush of air from exhaling vents.

"Heya Blitzy," he greeted the murkiness.

No immediate answer.

As Bumblebee cycled his optics to their infra-red setting in hopes for a better picture, his vision cleared just in time to catch something big and fast lunging at him. He instinctively jumped back a step and huffed out loud at the sight of Blitzwing's body crashing against the barrier. A metallic bang resounded around them.

"Puny Autobot-scum!"

It was Hothead this time that had come out to greet him. The Triplechanger's big fists wound around the bars of the cell and Bumblebee grinned as that broad, red face snarled at him.

"Aw, I've visited you so many times and still so much hostility!" he exclaimed.

Hothead's face disappeared and was replaced by Icy. "It is natural. You are an Autobot and I am a Decepticon—" Random quickly appeared. "—and ve are the bestests of bosom buddies!"

Bumblebee waited for Blitzwing's face to spin back to Icy before stepping towards him. He reached up and lightly touched the tightly clenched fists. Several of the larger mech's claws were broken; tips snapped off or blunted down from lack of maintenance.

"Sorry I couldn't visit you sooner. Work's been killin' me," he apologised with a wry smirk.

Blitzwing said nothing but pointedly glared down at Bumblebee's chestplates. Specifically at the Autobot emblem and the set of three stripes that surrounded it on both sides. Joining the Elite Guard had always been a far-fetched fantasy of Bumblebee's but once it was achieved, the reality of it was far more stagnant than he imagined. He wanted adventure. Instead he was stuck in Iacon to bolster up recruitment figures with his hero status. Still, he was older now. More mature.

"I am not a pet. Leave, Autobot," Blitzwing ordered.

Bumblebee's smirk faltered. "Never said you were a—"

This time it was Random who answered. "But I'm fully house-trained!"

"Well, I don't _want_ to leave," Bumblebee insisted.

Blitzwing switched to Icy and abruptly ripped his hands away from the bars, dislodging Bumblebee's. Just as Bumblebee opened his mouth to say something, Blitzwing grabbed him by the wrist.

"Leave, Autobot," the Decepticon repeated.

He then dropped Bumblebee's arm and meandered deeper into his cell. Bumblebee stood there with a small pout on his face. It wasn't the first time Blitzwing would tell him to leave, but honestly Bumblebee couldn't blame him – he'd be moody too if he was isolated in a small cell for the rest of eternity with nothing to do but just sit there and go mad. Luckily for Blitzwing though, Bumblebee was around to break the monotony.

"I… ah, don't think you really mean that," Bumblebee said and turned towards the corner, where an old, rickety chair was propped up against the wall. He brought it close to face the cell and then sat down. "You just need a little bit of an incentive, that's all."

Blitzwing didn't answer, but Bumblebee could still see the outline of his bulk and the lone, red light from his optic flickering from within the cell's gloominess.

"Didn't you miss me, Blitzwing?" Bumblebee crooned and spread his legs, pedes scraping across the floor. "'Cause I missed you. Couldn't stop thinking about you."

 _That_ caught Blitzwing's interest. The Triplechanger stepped back into the light as he moved back to the cell bars. Bumblebee grinned and mentally patted himself on the back.

"You really like playing zis game," Blitzwing flatly stated.

Bumblebee snorted out a laugh. "It's what I'm good at."

The chair creaked but Bumblebee paid it no mind. He rolled his hips onto the seat, widening his legs even more to show off the angled interface panel between his thighs and the tantalising glimpses of inner mechanisms in between the gaps of his armour. He felt himself steadily heating up when he ran the palms of his hands up his knees and along the thin plating of the inside of his thighs. With a cheeky wink directed at Blitzwing, Bumblebee cupped his hand over his interface panel and continued to tap the flat of his pedes against the floor. He reached upwards with his other hand to pinch one of his own sensor horns, gasping softly at the pleasurable sting.

It was always amazing just how fast he got charged up whenever he displayed himself in front of Blitzwing like that.

Like now. He loved the fact that Blitzwing was giving him the most intensive of stares, as if he couldn't tear his gaze away from the misbehaving little Autobot putting a show just out of his reach. So Bumblebee gave him more; grinding the heel of his hand into his interface panel to stimulate the pressure sensors hidden underneath. It didn't take very long until the soft _snick_ of his retracting panel was heard. The tip of Bumblebee's spike peaked out from its housing and one touch was all it took for the shaft to start extending out into the open air.

"It feels good," Bumblebee declared as he squeezed his spike in his palm and gave it rough stroke.

Blitzwing silently held onto the bars again. There was a subtle accompanying crack of joints when he tightened his fingers around the metal.

Oh he was interested, Bumblebee noted to himself. _Very_ interested. He slyly added: "But it feels even better having you watch me."

Blitzwing's faceplates spun again. Hothead made a grating sound deep inside his chassis and deliberately banged the front of his pelvis against the bars. "Spiketeaser Autobot!" he accused. "Come closer so zat I can show you what I can do!"

"Nope! You'll just have to wait for your turn, Blitzy," Bumblebee playfully admonished.

The head of Bumblebee's spike was already glistening with pre-fluid. He swiped the pad of his thumb over it and smeared it down the faint protrusions that decorated the underbelly of his shaft. The wet smoothness felt good against his sensors.

The sudden sight of Blitzwing releasing his own spike simply made Bumblebee grin.

He had always admired Blitzwing's spike, both in size and looks. It definitely was in proportion to its owner's frame. And by the looks of things, Blitzwing was getting just as charged up as he was. The Decepticon glared at him from the confines of his prison, red visor blazing with a mixture of frustration and anger, and Bumblebee widened his thighs even more – dipping his fingers from his spike to the just-barely engorged valve lips.

"If you're good, you can play with this too," Bumblebee promised, rolling the pad of his finger over his visible anterior node.

The light in Blitzwing's visor flickered, his stare following Bumblebee's digits as they moved back to his spike. He watched Bumblebee leisurely stroke up the ribbed surface of his spike, hand slowly moving up and wrist twisting a little as it reached the head before sliding back down again.

Then Blitzwing's face abruptly changed to the inky blackness of Random's and he banged at the cell bars again, singing out. "Autobot, Autobot, let me play doctor and nurse with you!"

Bumblebee just laughed, the sound throaty with his heavy panting. "Like I said, only if you're a good boy."

Blitzwing tried – unsuccessfully – to push his head through the bars. "What about zis?"

Bumblebee looked up. "This what?"

He saw Blitzwing bring two fingers up to his face, spreading them into a 'v' shape. Bumblebee's optics widened as the Decepticon's insanely long glossa wriggled between the two fingers in a blatantly lewd gesture. It left no illusion to what Blitzwing was suggesting. And below, Blitzwing's spike was fully-extended, curving upwards from between the bars. Prefluid rolled down the fat tip as it bobbed up and down in the open air before splattering onto the floor.

Bumblebee's arousal skyrocketed. His own spike throbbed with need and his grip tightened around the shaft, making him hiss with pleasure.

"You're going to make me overload fast," he muttered and rocked his hips against the rickety chair, hand moving faster and faster.

His tip was over-sensitised from the rough stroking and he could feel that familiar tightening around the base of his spike. His spark pulsed wildly, fuel-pump sending the hot energon thrumming even harder through his lines and Bumblebee groaned out loud when his body abruptly tensed. He barely managed to close the palm of his hand around the head of his spike to keep the transfluid from spurting all over his chassis.

As the pleasure ebbed away, Bumblebee glanced back at Blitzwing. The Decepticon had switched back to his Icy persona and was quiet, optic narrowed, hands back to clasping the bars with an almost desperate fervour. But his spike was still there, still erect and still dripping.

"I never last long with you watching," Bumblebee admitted with a weak grin.

As always, Blitzwing's stare spoke volumes.

The cooling transfluid already felt thick and sticky between the joints of Bumblebee's fingers. It dribbled down his wrist but he didn't seem to mind so much. With his spent spike slowly retracting back into its housing, Bumblebee slowly stood up. Blitzwing watched the smaller mech carefully as he sauntered towards the cells, dragging the chair along with him with the two tips of its legs scraping lines across the grimy floor.

Bumblebee roughly tossed the chair close to the cell. He held his wet hand up to his face and licked a long stripe up the palm with the flat of his glossa. Then he offered his transfluid-covered hand to Blitzwing, "Want some?"

Icy disappeared, leaving Random back in charge and it wasn't an opportunity that he wanted to waste.

Bumblebee's optics dimmed as the Decepticon's long, prehensile glossa snaked around his wet digits to scoop as much fluid as possible. It slurped back into the jagged mouth with an obscene _slurp_ as if Bumblebee's transfluid was the tastiest thing Blitzwing had ever had. Relaxed as Bumblebee was from his overload, with the tingling sensation of another mech's glossa against the tips of his fingers, he didn't expect Random to suddenly leave and for Hothead to take over.

"Infernal little Autobot, _come here_!"

The minibot's vents hitched but he didn't struggle or pull away as Blitzwing's black, too-hot palms slid up the sides of his chestplates, curving up to stroke the raised kibble of his altmode. Blitzwing then yanked Bumblebee hard against the bars and kept him pinned to them by snaking his other arm around his catch's slim midsection.

"You are _such_ a liar. You havemissed me," Bumblebee breathed out, unafraid despite the uncomfortable way he was being held. He fell slack against the bars, still horribly aroused. The close proximity to his lover just made the need burning between his legs even worse.

" _Ja_."

Bumblebee found himself mashed against the bars with Blitzwing's fingers digging into his seams and Blitzwing's mouth smearing oral fluids all over his faceplate, eagerly nipping at his lips with harsh, insistent kisses. Those kisses continued to rain all over his faceplates and Blitzwing loosened his hold, but only for a moment. His much larger hands immediately relocated at the transformation seams that ran down Bumblebee's flanks, fingertips rubbing hard along the too-narrow gaps.

Bumblebee stiffened at the touch and then calmed down. He reached through the bars to touch the front of Blitzwing's scratched chestplates. And though the cold seeped from the floor at his pedes and straight into the joints of his knees, he could feel Blitzwing's spark through his palms, giving out strong pulses. The warmth the Triplechanger was emitting was overwhelming; Bumblebee could already hear the fans whirring from within his body and the labouring of his vents.

Blitzwing pushed the side of his red cheek up against the length of one of the bars. He was still in his Hothead persona, but the words he was murmuring close to Bumblebee's audios were low; filled with yearning and promise.

"If I was out of zhis damn-thriced prison." Blitzwing paused, the tip of his glossa poking through the sizable gap between his denta as he took a deep breath. "I would take you on zee floor, right now as ve speak. Spread your legs and push deep inside of you. Make you scream my name, Autobot."

"B-Blitzwing…"

Bumblebee's optics dimmed then immediately brightened when he felt fingers rub at the soft, wet entrance of his valve. Blitzwing swallowed his moan with another kiss, glossa slipping past Bumblebee's pliant lips to explode the inside of his mouth.

"I vant to fill you up with my transfluid," Blitzwing panted against his mouth, his visor burning with raw need. There was a guttural growl that vibrated along with his words, thickening his accent to an almost slur. "Tie you to my berth and fill your tank up until there is no other place to go but down again. Then I'll rub it all over that cute chassis of yours until you smell like me. Everyone vill know you belong to me."

Bumblebee shuddered, an electric spike of arousal jumping through his circuits. His own engine rumbled out its excited rev. "Yeah, you can do whatever you want to me."

Amidst Blitzwing's growl, bodies clanked and scraped against the bars. Blitzwing pushed his hips against the unyielding barrier, his large spike peeking through it and Bumblebee had to arch his shoulders back because the raised front of his chest prevented him from achieving the closeness he wanted with his own hips. The Decepticon's heavily ridged length bumped up against Bumblebee's interface, its tip sliding harshly around the smaller mech's spike housing.

"Primus, Blitzy," Bumblebee gasped, unable to contain himself from extending his spike for a second time.

The protrusions running along his shorter length was shallower in contrast to Blitzwing's, but they followed a distinctive grooved pattern that had Blitzwing eagerly rake his spike against them; the two heated shafts smearing lines of pre-fluid across each other.

"Come closer, Autobot…"

Bumblebee hooked his forearms around the bars and grasped the metal with his hands. "Hha…B-Blitzwing!" He then whined and dragged the front of his chassis down the bars. "Not…enough!"

With an impatient burst of static, he twisted his torso to the side and stretched out one arm towards the chair. He managed to snag the seat's edge, pulling it close enough to sit on it, hoping that he could brace the flat of his pedes against the bars and have Blitzwing try to spike him instead.

Blitzwing beat him to it.

"Zis is how you do it, little Bumblebee!"

The Triplechanger's servos managed to reach through the bars and grab him by the knees.

"Hey!" Bumblebee yelped with surprise as he felt his aft lift off the chair completely.

Even after being locked up in that Primus-forsaken cell for so long, it was clear that Blitzwing still retained some of his superior strength. He used it to his advantage so that he wouldn't have to kneel down to accommodate their height differences; hoisting Bumblebee up by the thighs and bringing his aft to him instead. Bumblebee ended up being half-dangled in the air, his slender knees slotting through the bars and the backs of his shoulders balancing against the chair's seat. With his spinal struts arched up in the air, his interface was conveniently angled just right against the front of Blitzwing's pelvis. It was an uncomfortable position, being suspended like that but neither of them seemed to care.

There was a choked protest when Blitzwing slid the flared head of his spike through the bars to press it up against Bumblebee's delicate array. He gave his hips a small push, visor darkening as he watched the Autobot's engorged little folds give way to his spike. The valve rim twitched, wet and shiny with fresh lubricant.

"Do it already," Bumblebee urged, arms reaching behind him to clutch at the chair's back piece. "I've been wanting this for cycles!"

Blitzwing's lips widened into a grin, just before he slid home. And Bumblebee's mouth opened wide in a soundless cry.

That spike always stretched him out _so well._ Never mind that it always somewhat painful at first. The pleasurable _fullness_ it gave him overrode everything else.

Blitzwing waited for a few moments for his lover to get used to the sensation; fingers twitching against the metal of Bumblebee's thighs and wings swinging impatiently upwards. The way Bumblebee's valve squeezed around him was just _that_ good. When he felt Bumblebee's valve callipers start to flutter weakly against his shaft, did Blitzwing move.

There was nothing that Bumblebee could do but hold on and hope that he wouldn't slide completely off the chair. Blitzwing controlled both their movements, keeping the smaller mech's lower half completely elevated and using it to his liking.

"Oh, so good…you frag me so good, Blitzy…" Bumblebee moaned, his gaze fixed aimlessly up at the chamber's grey ceiling, helm lolling into the cradle of his shoulder armour. "Yeah…t-that's it!"

But it was still so frustrating. The bars that separated them kept Blitzwing from penetrating his little lover fully and he growled, trying to tilt his hips for a better angle. In the end though, he could still thrust shallowly into the welcoming valve and the sight of the small hole pulling wide around his girth and swallowing the ridges of his spike was more than enough.

The chair creaked dangerously but continued to hold. Bumblebee started to make sharp, staccato-like gasps every time Blitzwing canted his hips up to graze the tip of his spike hard across the top of his inner walls. Somehow, Bumblebee managed to unfold one of his arms from where he'd been gripping the chair with a death-grip. He reached up and bypassed his erect spike in favour for his anterior node instead. It pulsed from where it was nestled at the top of his folds, swollen and needy for attention. He rolled it between his fingers, thigh cables pulling tautly from the overstimulation, despite his hand slipping from each jarring thrust that Blitzwing gave him. 

And as that fire grew between his thighs, making his valve squeeze tighter and tighter, so did the ache in his back. Bumblebee could feel himself slowly slipping; both physically and metaphorically. Blitzwing's grip on him was firm, surely leaving dents in the yellow plating. Neither mech would last long.

Blitzwing was the one who overloaded first, grunting out his completion. The hot jet of transfluid that hit the inside of his valve channel had Bumblebee following. Just one last, hard rub against his node was enough to tip him over.

Thankfully Blitzwing had enough sense left not to drop him. He slowly lowered the panting minibot down; spike slipping wetly out of the spent valve with a gush of fluids. Bumblebee's shoulders finally slid off the chair and his aft hit the floor, bent knees falling open untidily. His abdomen and lower half of his chestplates were splattered with his own transfluid.

Bumblebee glanced up. Hothead had been replaced by the much calmer Icy.

"You vill be late for your shift," Blitzwing stated, voice shaking a little from the aftereffects of his overload.

The sex was over and the passion cooled down. Reality had set in again.

"Yeah in a bit."

Bumblebee dug into his subspace and pulled out a packet of solvent wipes to clean himself up. Wouldn't do him much good if everyone saw him covered in transfluid and paint transfers. He gave himself a quick onceover before he handed Blitzwing a wipe. He also pushed more stuff through the bars for Blitzwing – packets of rust sticks, tubes of healing nanite gel and a small datapad loaded with some games and movies.

"You know…" Bumblebee began, leaning forward against the bars as he idly watched Blitzwing wipe himself down. "I think Optimus is gonna be Magnus soon. When he does, I'm gonna ask him to move you."

Blitzwing's one optic flickered with curiosity, even as he scoffed. "Move me where exactly?"

"I dunno. Somewhere nicer. Maybe a low-security facility."

It was a stupid, hopeful notion. Blitzwing's wings twitched and his mouth twisted, as if he wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or scowl. Bumblebee didn't care; not with his valve aching pleasantly for cycles to come.

"You just wait and see," Bumblebee insisted. "I'll end up being your warden. And then every solar-cycle, I'll call you into my office and have you suck my spike for good favour."

Icy's face spun into Random's. "Ooo, teacher's pet! Teacher's pet!" The Triplechanger then noticed the goodies Bumblebee had left for him. "Rust sticks! Now I can bribe the turborats! Where are you my darlings! Daddy has treats for you~!"

As Blitzwing's crazy persona continued to call out for the turborats, Bumblebee checked his chronometer and realised that he would be late for his shift.

"Gotta go, Blitzy! I'll be back when I can!"

There were no kisses goodbye. If there were, then Bumblebee would have to acknowledge to himself that their weird, taboo relationship was more than just the thrill of interfacing with a dangerous Decepticon. The denial helped him recharge without having his complicated feelings take over his thoughts when he was alone at night. And Bumblebee simply knew he didn't have the processor for deep thinking.

Besides, Blitzwing was too busy flouncing around in his cell. Singing horribly off-key about turborats. Bumblebee rolled the light in his optics and began to walk towards the corridor. He wasn't sure he wanted to wait and see if the turborats actually turned up.

The singing abruptly stopped and Icy's composed voice wafted over to Bumblebee's audio receivers.

"The rest of the Decepticons are still out there. Megatron vill get rescued."

Bumblebee stopped and turned his helm to the side. "That so, Blitzy?"

"And vhen that happens, I shall take you with me. You vill be mine."

"I ain't gonna be willing."

"Are you sure?"

Bumblebee didn't even want to consider it. So he masked his uneasiness with a chuckle and gave Blitzwing one last wave. "Keep dreaming, you big lout!"

Blitzwing watched the Autobot's retreating back with a small smirk. He knew that Strika would eventually break them out. She was just waiting for the right opportunity. Until then, he'll bide his time. 

 


End file.
